We Must Bear What Heaven Sends.

Far Must Thy Researches Go Wouldst Thou Learn The World To Know; Thou Must Tempt The Dark Abyss Wouldst Thou Prove What Being Is; Naught But Firmness Gains The Prize, Naught But Fullness Makes Us Wise, Buried Deep Truth E'er Lies.

Let No One Despair, Even Though In The Darkest Night The Last Star Of Hope May Disappear.

The Voice Of The Majority Is No Proof Of Justice.

Let Him That Sows The Serpent's Teeth Not Hope To Reap A Joyous Harvest. Every Crime Has, In The Moment Of Its Perpetration, Its Own Avenging Angel,--dark Misgivings At The Inmost Heart.

When The Measured Dance Of The Hours Brings Back The Happy Smile Of Spring, The Buried Dead Is Born Again In The Life-glance Of The Sun. The Germs Which Perished To The Eye Within The Cold Breast Of The Earth Spring Up With Joy In The Bright Realm Of Day.